


A Routine Exam

by strive2bhappy



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, not complete
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 23:10:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1322731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strive2bhappy/pseuds/strive2bhappy





	1. Chapter 1

  


 

 

 

 

 **Title:**  A Routine Exam  


**Pairing:**  J2 AU  
 **Rating:**   NC17  
 **Disclaimer:**  I don't have a thing to do with anyone in this story. In fact, if you have anything to do with the show, please hit the back button now.   
 **A/N:**  This was written for the bottom!Jared meme that [](http://transfixeddream.livejournal.com/profile)[**transfixeddream**](http://transfixeddream.livejournal.com/) did [here](http://transfixeddream.livejournal.com/118519.html#comments). If you haven't perused, go now! Anyway, [](http://deirdre-c.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://deirdre-c.livejournal.com/) **deirdre_c** prompted "Jared goes to see Dr. Ackles for a complete physical" and I took a shot.  
  
Everyone there was so awesome and encouraging to me when I posted the initial part of this fic, that it has inspired two more parts and likely may even become a verse of some kind because these characters just keep talking to me. This is how it started. Part two is how it continues.

 

 

 

 

Stupid sinus infection. Jared doesn't get sick. He's kind of oddly healthy for a 25-year-old. The most he'll come down with is a cold that lasts a couple of days and he's done -- or a stomach bug that means his diet consists of soup and toast for a while and he's good. 

This most recent "cold" morphed into serious congestion -- he felt like he was breathing through mud -- his cheeks, ears and even teeth hurt. All the guys at PC Problem Solvers kept telling him to go to his doctor, only Jared didn't have one. He never had one -- he hadn't needed a doctor before. 

So, he found Dr. Ackles. 

Dr. Ackles was young and nice and smart and smelled so unbelievably good -- even through Jared's stuffed up nose -- and he'd prescribed antibiotics, which had worked wonders, and told Jared he should schedule a physical since he'd never had one.

All of which is why he's sitting on an exam table two weeks later, wearing one of those silly gowns -- "open in the front, please, Jared" -- after filling out a metric ton of paperwork, getting blood drawn and his vitals taken, waiting for Dr. Ackles to do…whatever's involved in a physical exam.

He's nervous and exposed, fingers fisted in the opening of the white gown, and feeling really vulnerable being naked underneath, the hem barely covers the tops of his thighs. Jared's never naked. Well, in the shower, obviously, but even in gym class when he was in school, he'd learned how to change lightening-fast and halfway buried in his locker to avoid being seen by others. 

It's not that Jared's a slouch, physically -- quite the contrary. Of all the computer geeks he works with, he's told he's the hottest one -- he's toned and somewhat ripped and he likes to go for runs in the morning so he can think and sometimes he even lifts weights, but he's just never been one of those guys who struts around without a shirt. 

He's always been a little odd. He tends to babble about stupid stuff and people always look at him like he's about fifteen degrees off center and maybe his mind does work a little differently than others and all that is why he's not very good with people. He's not the guy at the party who makes the rounds to say hi to every attendee. 

In fact, he'd stopped going to parties years ago. It's just a lot easier to stay home in his sweats and get online with his friends to play Call of Duty or something. 

He actually jumps when the door swings open and the movement makes the paper under his ass crinkle. 

Dr. Ackles breezes in, voice warm and friendly. "Jared, good to see you again. Did the Zithromax help with the sinuses?"

Jared swings his legs back and forth -- nerves getting the best of him -- and feels off-balance because his feet don't touch the floor. It's a weird sensation for someone who's tall. He nods in answer to Dr. Ackles' question. 

"Glad to hear it," he says, leafing through what Jared assumes is his chart. "I'm just gonna check you out a little here before we start."

Dr. Ackles moves to stand between Jared's legs and it's a little overwhelming, being this close to someone. Jared notices Dr. Ackles is wearing the white labcoat again, along with his khaki pants, but today it's a forest green button down, which makes his eyes stand out vividly. It's funny to realize Dr. Ackles has touched him more in the short time they've known each other than practically anyone else in his life. 

Warm thumbs sweep under his eyes and Dr. Ackles asks, "Hurt?"

Jared shakes his head, bringing his cheeks in contact with Dr. Ackles' fingers and despite the strangeness, he doesn't mind the sensation. The fingers dip under his chin and around his ear, pressing and poking gently. 

"Tender?"

Again, Jared says no, grazing Dr. Ackles' palms with his jaw. 

"You lose your voice, Jared?" the question is asked with just a hint of a smile and Jared can't seem to help responding in kind. 

"No," he squeaks, clears his throat and tries again. "No."

"Good," Dr. Ackles drops his hands. "Are you nervous, Jared?"

Jared squirms. "A little."

"How come?"

Jared shrugs. "S'just weird, is all. I don't…it's not…" He sighs, knows this is why he spends so much time alone. 

Dr. Ackles squeezes his forearm and it makes him shiver slightly. Jared likes the shape of Dr. Ackles' hands -- big and firm and solid. Like he could hold on to something and not let go. 

"Jared, listen. I want you to understand something. There's nothing that's not allowed here, okay? There's no need to be nervous because there's no judgment here. Tell me whatever you want. In fact, I'm going to need you to give me information as honestly as you can, okay?"

Jared nods, caught in the words and those green eyes. 

"And there's no rush. Tell me what you need to in your own time, okay?"

Jared feels a little like a bobble-head, but no one's ever been quite this patient with his bumblings before. 

"Good," Dr. Ackles pats his arm before moving back to the counter and the chart and Jared notices his skin feels cold in the absence of that warm hand. He kind of wishes Dr. Ackles could always be touching him -- because he's just so nice. 

"So, you're not a smoker and an occasional drinker. What do you drink?"

Jared shifts a little. "Beer, mostly. Sometimes wine with dinner."

"Yeah?" Dr. Ackles asks. "You like white or red?"

Jared smiles, wine talk he can do. "Depends what I'm having. I kind of stick to the standard white with chicken and fish and red with meat."

Dr. Ackles nods. "That's always a safe bet. Have you been to the winery out on Cobalt Road? They've got some of the best subtleties I've ever tasted. Haven't found a bad one yet."

"You drink wine?" Jared tries not to sound shocked, but seriously, a doctor who admits to drinking?

Dr. Ackles chuckles. "Of course. The key to anything is moderation, Jared. Wine enhances the flavor of foods and there have been a lot of studies to show the benefits of a glass or two a day."

Jared just stares. 

"Now, that doesn't mean you can empty a bottle in one sitting, you know."

Jared nods. He gets it, he does, it's just now he's picturing Dr. Ackles sipping leisurely at a rich Merlot and enjoying the flavor and it's messing with his head. 

"So, what's your diet like?"

Jared winces. He's in front of a computer all day, so it's easy to eat without thinking. "Um, it's okay. I work at PC Problem Solvers, so sometimes there's a lot of pizza and chips and stuff."

Dr. Ackles hums and makes a notation. "We'll see when your bloodwork comes back about cholesterol, but you seem pretty fit. Do you exercise?"

"I run sometimes in the morning."

"Good. Getting into an exercise routine at your age really helps maintain good health."

Somehow Dr. Ackles manages to make statements like that not sound weird, like a pamphlet or documentary. Or Troy McClure. Jared thinks it's pretty cool. 

"Okay," Dr. Ackles takes a seat on a squeaky stool and wheels himself over closer to the exam table. "This is where we get a little personal, Jared, but these are standard questions we ask everyone."

Jared's heartbeat kicks up, but he nods. 

"Are you sexually active?"

Jared shakes his head. 

"Do you have sex with men, women or both?"

Jared swallows past the lump in his throat. "I…it's…"

Dr. Ackles looks so calm and tolerant. "Nobody here but you and me, Jared."

He knows about doctor-patient confidentiality and he's insanely grateful for it at the moment, because he feels like Dr. Ackles really won't judge and that's a novel sensation to have after a lifetime of worry that his parents or friends might really know what goes on inside his head. He takes a breath, hands still clenched in his gown, and murmurs, "I…don't really get women."

Dr. Ackles nods, no censure at all in his expression. 

"They f-freak me out a little 'cause I don't have a clue what they're thinking or what to…you know, do with them."

"How many women have you been with?"

Jared shivers. "Oh God, none. I c-couldn't…"

"You couldn't or you don't want to?"

Jared grimaces. That's the question, isn't it? It's what he's been asking himself a lot recently, in the shower and when he's running, but he's no closer to an answer. He shrugs. 

"Hey," Dr. Ackles said. "Life's about discovering who you are. I know a lot of 50-year-olds who are still finding stuff out about themselves. No worries, Jared."

Jared blinks and releases a breath. He has the crazy urge to hug Dr. Ackles. His own mind never gives him an out like that and the fact that Dr. Ackles just told him it's okay if he doesn't figure this out right away is like getting a sudden reprieve from a heavy burden. It's a breathtaking relief. 

"How many men have you been with?"

Jared tenses and in an instant, the question flashes all the jerk-off images that he'll never admit sneak into his head. Hot, hard, strong men. He knows when he reads his comics he should be looking at the well-endowed women, but truthfully, it's the gorgeous muscles of the men in spandex that really get his attention. He tries to speak, "It's not…I don't…"

"It's okay, Jared," Dr. Ackles says soothingly. "I just need a number. How many men have you been with?"

Jared's voice quakes, "N-none."

"So you're a virgin?" Again, no condemnation at all.

Jared nods. 

"How far have you ever gone with someone?"

Jared inhales. "I kissed a girl at the prom right before I graduated. A-and…"

Dr. Ackles raises an eyebrow and waits for a beat or two. "And?"

Jared doesn't think he can say it. He wishes he wouldn't have even started. He closes his eyes and whispers all in one breath, "A-and I really wanted to kiss my roommate freshman year, he was s-so cool, but it n-never happened." His eyes jerk open. Jesus, he'd never told anyone that -- never even said it out loud before -- he's so scared and freaked out, he's having a hard time getting his breathing under control. "D-Dr. Ackles, I…"

"Not a big deal, Jared. I understand."

"N-no, but, please don't…tell…"

"Hey, hey," Dr. Ackles stands from his stool, reaches out for Jared's forearm again and wraps his fingers around the bone. "Relax, Jared. Nothing you tell me like that will ever leave this room, okay? Only my physical findings on the off chance I'd ever have to share them with a consulting doctor. But anything like this, will not go any farther, okay? I'm not even writing anything down."

"It's just…n-nobody knows that I think like that…" Jared tries to explain his worry and mindlessly lets go of the gown to wrap his fingers around Dr. Ackles' wrist. 

"There's no such thing as thought-police, Jared. You're fine. Perfectly normal and natural."

Jared shakes his head and drops his chin, focuses on his lap. He knows that's not true. He's heard the exact opposite growing up his entire life. Words like abomination and wicked and sinful and perverted. "T-that's not what people think."

Dr. Ackles shakes Jared's arm to get his attention. "Look up a second, Jared."

Jared lifts his eyes. 

"You see anybody else in here with us?"

Jared frowns, says no. 

"Then right now, in this room, the only opinions that matter are yours and mine. I say it's normal and natural. What do you think?"

Jared blinks, rapid-fire fast, and his eyes burn a little. He's never been given the chance to make up his own mind on a matter like this before and it's so unusual and oddly reassuring that he finds he's fighting back tears. "I-I don't know what I think."

"Okay," Dr. Ackles' thumb rubs circles against Jared's forearm and Jared squeezes Dr. Ackles' wrist unconsciously. "Do me a favor. Take a few deep belly breaths, from here."

Dr. Ackles glides the back of his knuckles against Jared's abdomen and he sucks in a sharp breath. 

Dr. Ackles smiles. "A little deeper than that. You're in fight or flight response and right now, you're breathing mainly from your upper chest. Take some deep breaths that make your stomach push out."

Jared does what he's told, even though his breath quivers on each exhale. 

"That's it. Good job. Keep going. When you sleep, you breathe from your belly. Taking deep breaths like this makes your body think everything's fine and you're safe enough to sleep."

Dr. Ackles' voice is so easy and subdued that Jared relaxes almost from the sound alone. 

"Okay, I'm gonna listen to your heart now, Jared."

Jared nods. 

Dr. Ackles releases Jared's forearm and Jared reluctantly lets go of his wrist. He really wishes he could hold onto Dr. Ackles. He knows it's stupid to feel like that about a doctor and even more so because Jared's really never touched by anyone, but he finds he'd like to keep Dr. Ackles close. 

Dr. Ackles gets the stethoscope ready and brushes open the lapels of Jared's gown. Jared jumps, partly because the metal is cold and partly to fist the bottom of the gown closed again. 

"Sorry, I know it's cold," Dr. Ackles murmurs, while obviously listening to the beat of Jared's heart. 

Dr. Ackles grips Jared's forearm as he moves the chest piece over Jared's skin. 

"Think we need to do some more deep breathing. Either that or you're part rabbit."

Jared chuckles, likes the teasing quality in Dr. Ackles' voice. 

Dr. Ackles shifts the metal again and says, "How about a deep breath for me?"

Jared inhales and lets it out. 

Dr. Ackles finds another spot and murmurs, "Again."

Jared complies. 

"Let me just get around to your back."

Dr. Ackles rearranges the stethoscope and leans even further into Jared's space. With each breath Jared takes, he can smell the clean scent of Dr. Ackles and it makes Jared want to angle himself closer, maybe rub his nose just along the collar bone he can see peeking out from Dr. Ackles' shirt. 

When he steps away a bit, Jared just stops himself from reaching out to pull him back in. 

Dr. Ackles takes an instrument out of the pocket of his labcoat and says, "Let's check your eyes and ears."

Jared notices Dr. Ackles has ridiculously long eyelashes. They're thick and pretty and he kind of wants to know what they would feel like fluttering against his cheek. And Dr. Ackles has really full lips. They're plump and plush and Jared's mind starts to wander, as he's poked and prodded, about what it would be like to kiss Dr. Ackles. 

He imagines he would taste as good as he smells and he bets Dr. Ackles would know what to do. He wouldn't be nervous or sweaty or unsure. He'd probably take his time, be thorough. He bets Dr. Ackles would want to know what makes someone feel good and once he found it, he'd go back again and again. 

When Jared sees the freckles, he grins and without thinking asks, "Dr. Ackles, did you mean it?"

Dr. Ackles drops the instrument back into his pocket and take a tongue depressor out of the container. "Jared, you'll find that I always say what I mean. Some say it's a fault of mine. So, yes, I meant it. What are we talking about?"

Jared heedlessly spreads his knees a tiny bit wider as Dr. Ackles steps between them again. He wants to slide forward on the table, feel Dr. Ackles' hips against his thighs. Instead, he asks, "Did you mean it when you said it's normal, the stuff I think about?"

"Absolutely, Jared."

Dr. Ackles sounds so genuine, so sure, so confident, that Jared just smiles and says, "Thanks."

Dr. Ackles smiles, too, and it does something funny to Jared's stomach. "You're welcome. Now say ahhh for me."

Jared opens for the tongue depressor and Dr. Ackles' warm breath tickles his nose and chin.

"Okay, looks good," he tosses the wooden instrument in the garbage. "Now I need you to lie back."

Jared starts to move and only then does he realize that at some point his cock had thickened -- actually got hard -- under the gown. He gasps, grabs his crotch and stops, humiliation and abject horror shocking him into immobility. 

"It's okay, Jared," Dr. Ackles assures. "It won't hurt. Go ahead."

He makes the most pathetic noise of his equally pathetic existence and stays upright. 

Dr. Ackles frowns and ducks his face to make eye contact. "Jared? What's up? Do you hurt somewhere?"

Jared squirms and he wills his dick to respond to his thoughts and just go down, just this once, but it's not happening. "D-Dr. Ackles, I…"

He can't say it. He really, really can't. 

Dr. Ackles covers Jared's forearm with his fingers again and Jared's traitorous cock actually blurts a dribble of precome out the slit at the skin on skin contact. He barely keeps his hips from pulsing up, searching for friction. 

There's three seconds of silence and Jared swears he hears Dr. Ackles gasp. 

Jared whimpers in agony and mortification and shame. "I'm s-sorry…" He wants to run, but he figures he won't get very far without his clothes. "Dr. A-Ackles, please, I'm so sorry…I just can't control…" 

When Dr. Ackles' voice comes, it's so calm, so serene, it makes Jared jerk his head up in surprise. 

"Jared, you're fine," and the thumb is back to making comforting circles against Jared's arm. "This is completely natural. Happens all the time. Seriously. Remember how I always say what I mean? It's really not a big deal at all. Now how about you lie back and let me take a look at your abdomen, okay?"

Jared still can't believe it. He so wants to call bullshit right now. "But…it's not…"

"Jared, I don't mean to be blunt here, but yours is not the first erect penis I've seen, okay? Seriously. Relax. You're fine."

Jared slowly lets go of the death grip he has on the gown and reclines back against the paper. He stretches out his limbs a little, the gown shifting and sliding and his dick swells up even more at the sensation. He just manages to bite back a groan. 

Dr. Ackles seems completely unfazed, though, as he pushes and palpates against Jared's stomach, asking if anything hurts or is tender. Unable to speak, Jared just shakes his head. 

The sickest, sickest part of all this is Jared really just wants to take Dr. Ackles' hand and put it right over his cock, rub off against his palm and know, finally, what it's like to have another person touch his dick. God, the more he thinks about it, the worse his condition gets. 

"Looks good," Dr. Ackles says after covering what seems like every inch of Jared's stomach. His words take on a tone like he knows Jared's not gonna like what he tells him next. "Now, Jared. I have to examine your penis and testicles."

Jared cringes even as a jolt of heat streaks to his balls and he whispers, "Oh God, you're kidding?"

"It's all part of the routine exam, and it'll be fine," Dr. Ackles confirms, while snapping on a pair of rubber gloves. "Just try to relax."

Jared huffs a strangled sound. "Now I know you're kidding."

Dr. Ackles chuckles a little and repeats, "It's fine."

Jared feels the gown open and air currents brush over his now rock hard cock and he has to clench his jaw against a moan. It's the strangest feeling to be so exposed like this and yet, a thrill shoots down his spine and he keeps hearing _nobody here but you and me, Jared_ repeating in his head. 

The atmosphere is hushed and if he's being honest, somewhat charged as Dr. Ackles takes Jared's cock in his gloved hand and starts the examination. It's like Jared's best wet dream and his worse nightmare combined. He wants nothing more than to thrust up into those hands, get himself off on the foreign sensation of another person's touch and he wants so badly to strip Dr. Ackles of the gloves so he can actually feel the warm skin on his aching cock. 

Jared knows he's leaking precome -- he's never been really dry in that department -- and it's gotta be getting all over Dr. Ackles' fingers, but there's not a damn thing he can do about it. He's not looking, his head's turned to the wall, trying to get a sense of disconnection even as he's practically memorizing every detail of the moment. 

When Dr. Ackles slips a hand down to Jared's balls, there's no way Jared can keep the whimper inside. His throat is wrecked from his heavy breaths and tension, and his knees open wider on their own accord, giving Dr. Ackles whatever access he might need. 

God, he wants to arch his back and really abandon himself to this, wants to cover his stomach and Dr. Ackles' hands with his come, but he knows it's wildly inappropriate, so he tries to hold back as much as possible. 

The examination is over far too soon and at the same times seems to have taken forever. 

Jared's practically gasping for breath, but trying to control it and he swears even Dr. Ackles' voice is a little unsteady as he closes the gown shut again. "Good, Jared. Looks fine. When you're ready, I need you to stand up and lean over the exam table. I'll have to check your prostate."

Jared's heard about this -- maybe even read some comments on blogs about what it was like -- but nothing could have prepared him for hearing the words said out loud like that. His entire body -- even the muscles in his ass -- clenches around a spasm of anticipation and he's really not sure he can do this. 

Still, he sits up slowly, really shaky, but also heavy with the prospect of Dr. Ackles' finger in his ass. 

Dr. Ackles holds out a hand and Jared takes the support and tries not to revel in the contact. Once Jared's off the exam table, Dr. Ackles places a towel over the end and motions for Jared to take his position. 

He stands, turns and braces himself against the edge, leaning down on his elbows, hard, leaking cock rubbing against the soft towel and he knows he's in serious trouble. 

"Okay, Jared, I'll let you know that this part of the exam requires me to actually feel your prostate with my finger, so I'll be reaching inside your rectum to do so. The good news is we have a container that actually warms the lubricant, so that won't be freezing cold."

Jared tries to laugh because he knows he's supposed to, but it comes out garbled and odd sounding.

Dr. Ackles' gloved hand rests gently over the gown at the base of Jared's spine and a full-body tremor shakes through him. 

"It's okay. You'll be okay. I'll go slow."

Jared hears the sounds of instruments and containers being moved around and Dr. Ackles sits down again on the stool and wheels himself close again. 

Jared can only imagine what he looks like, white gown barely covering the globes of his ass, bent over an exam table, legs and arms quivering. 

"Okay, Jared," Dr. Ackles says as he moves the material away. "Try to take some deep breaths for me. You'll be fine."

Jared feels Dr. Ackles spread his asscheeks open and he tries to bury the noise that he makes into his arm, but he doubts he's all that successful. Then the tip of a slick, gloved finger touches just the very rim of his ass and Jared honestly never knew that puckered skin was so incredibly sensitive. 

"Try to bear down for me, if you can," Dr. Ackles says, voice like gravel.

Jared makes an attempt, but finds he really, really likes the feeling of that thick finger pushing past the tight ring of muscle, stretching his flesh. Jared drops his upper body onto the table and doesn't mean to cant his hips up, but apparently his ass has a mind of its own and his feet spread further apart and he pushes back against Dr. Ackles' hand. 

It's so fucking amazing, just that little bit of fullness and the kittenish sounds slip out his mouth despite his best attempts to hold them in.  

Then Dr. Ackles twists his finger and the sensation lights up Jared's whole body -- his nipples pebble into tight peaks and he has the urge to rub them against the paper on the table, just to double the feeling. His ass clenches in pulses against Dr. Ackles finger and he's soaking the towel with precome. He knows then, with alarming certainty, that he's going to come -- likely one of the best orgasms of his life -- on this exam table. 

He wiggles, tries to warn, throat completely wrecked, "D-Dr. Ackles…I-I can't…"

"You're fine, Jared. Just go with it. It's totally normal. You can let go."

He scrabbles, wants so badly to lift a knee onto the table and really just ride that finger, wants to beg for even more, more fingers, a fist, a cock, just more. He wants to be impaled, broken open, split wide and he wants this man -- his fucking doctor -- to do it. 

His noises are rhythmic -- whimpers and mewls and high pitched gasps -- in time with his thoughts and the overwhelming heat and fire building in his body -- and he doesn't fucking care. He doesn't care that he's a patient or the picture he's making, practically gagging for just the width of a finger in his ass. It's so good. So fucking, fucking good. The best he's ever felt in his life and it's inappropriate and wicked and blazing goddamn hot and so fucking shameful and Jared's loving every single second of it. 

His orgasm surprises the hell of out him and he actually shouts into his fist, body convulsing, shaking, spurting come all over the towel, his stomach, the table. 

He's trashed, gasping, coming down from a tremendous high and when Dr. Ackles slips his finger out of Jared's ass, he actually lifts his hips to follow it, whimpers at the loss. 

It take a while, Jared's not sure how long, but Dr. Ackles makes a sound like he's clearing his throat, covers Jared back up with the gown as much as he can, and asks, "You okay?"

Jared nods. "S-sorry, Dr. Ackles. I c-couldn't…"

Dr. Ackles kneads his hand lightly on the small of Jared's back and it feels so damn good, Jared wants to stay on this exam table for the rest of his life. "No need to apologize, Jared. It happens all the time. Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

It's so gentle when Dr. Ackles takes a warm wash cloth to the sensitive pucker of Jared's ass and cleans off the lube. Jared's a little shocked to find he wants to be full again, doesn't like the emptiness in his ass and he wishes he could stay with Dr. Ackles and be filled with any part of him any time he wants. 

The thought chases a shiver along his spine as Dr. Ackles helps him sit back up. 

Jared notices Dr. Ackles' labcoat is buttoned up and wonders absently when he did that while he tries to get his bearings back. 

Dr. Ackles clears his throat again. "Okay, from what I've been able to see, everything looks totally normal. I'll let you know about your bloodwork in a few days. So, you go ahead and get dressed and see our receptionist before you leave to settle up the insurance papers, okay?"

Jared just nods, still a little quivery. 

"And, Jared, really, you're fine. Everything about your reactions is totally normal. Everything. So don't worry so much, okay? Take care of yourself."

Jared chokes out a "T-thanks, Dr. Ackles," before the door closes and he's alone in the room again. 

Jared doesn't know what to make of this experience. Part of him thinks he's really, royally fucked up, but part of him wishes he could get to know Dr. Ackles outside of the exam room -- which he realizes is completely insane and implausible. 

But, still, if sometimes when he jerks off now, he uses his fingers inside his ass and imagines green eyes and sure hands and a crisp, white labcoat, well, like Dr. Ackles told him, there's no such thing as thought-police. 

~


	2. Chapter 2

~  
Jensen Ackles is well and truly screwed. Professionally, personally, the whole ballgame.

He somehow manages a tight nod to his nursing staff before closing himself off behind his office door and taking a few deep shuddering breaths. 

_From your belly, Jared._

The echo of his own voice in his head brings a bark of somewhat delirious laughter that he hopes isn't loud enough to sound through the door. 

Fucking Christ, there's something seriously wrong with him. 

It's not until he goes to run quivering fingers through is hair that he realizes he still has the rubber gloves on. Never took them off in his unmitigated haste to get out of the exam room. Not only unprofessional, but horrifically unsanitary as well. 

And no, no he doesn't even consider where the middle finger of his right hand has been and he most certainly doesn't want to taste. He doesn't. He really, really doesn't. Even though his mouth might be watering. 

With a bitten off curse, he tosses the manilla folder under his arm onto his desk and strips the gloves off his hands like they're made of acid instead of rubber. He barely aims as he quickly tosses them into the trash and sits behind his desk.

His rock hard cock protests the confinement and treacherously pulses inside his boxer briefs. 

It's insanity. He's literally gone insane. That's gotta be it. He made it through med school and into his early thirties only to be stricken by too much work and pressure and…something. Friends and colleagues have told him the clinic hours plus the practice are too much -- gonna overload him. They say he needs time for himself, to build relationships and a life outside of his career.

He never understood it before, but this afternoon, behind his desk with a throbbing hard-on in his pants, he's starting to see their point. 

Especially if he's having serious inappropriate, improper, _unethical_ reactions to his patients. 

What the fuck else could it be other than he's cracking? Going off the deep end? He really didn't expect to have a nervous breakdown until he was well into his forties. 

The oddest thing is, he feels relatively level-headed for being in the throes of a mental collapse. 

He knows what day it is; can recite all 206 bones in the human body; remembers his scores on the MCAT -- hell, he can even, if he really tries, get the first hundred-and-some elements of the periodic table. 

Sure, his heartrate and respiration are up and his blood pressure is likely a little elevated, but that's mostly the fault of his suddenly treasonous, horribly disloyal, unruly dick. 

It's been a while since he got laid. Quite a long while, if he's being honest. It's just…time hasn't been on his side recently and he's been helping people, building a practice, seeing patients. The typical doctor drill. So, his personal life has taken a backseat -- like in the back of one of those in those big, multi-passenger vans. That faces backwards. Or maybe the one in a schoolbus by the emergency exit door. 

He huffs at his own idiotic thoughts. 

The insanity plea is starting to look more plausible the longer he sits here. 

It's just, Jesus, there was something about this kid. Jared. And hell, he's not really even a kid. He's twenty five, for fuck sake, not that much younger than Jensen. 

Jared just seems so…guileless. So candid. So tender. 

There's something utterly refreshing about the whole thing. 

Jensen has seen a lot in his relatively short career as a physician. Patients addicted to painkillers who make up all sorts of shit just to get another prescription; hypochondriacs who have a new ailment just about every week; hopeless, fruitless, bitter people who are so wrapped up in disease and misery that it's sometimes real easy to get caught up in that maelstrom himself. 

Jared, though. With his thoughts he never shared with anyone before and his wide-eyed freshness and newfound attitude about his own sexuality. Jared's different. 

Part of Jensen wants to hug him and hold onto him and never let go, while another part wants to slide more than just a finger into that tight ass and watch him squirm and writhe on his dick. 

The thought alone tightens his balls and his palms actually itch to get his cock out. 

And the insanity is back. No way he can do that here. At the office. No way. 

Right? 

He shakes his head with a muttered fuck and reaches for a file on his desk. Work. That's what he'll do. Finish some of his follow-ups and close some of these open patient files he has. 

_I…don't really get women._

Jared's voice floats through his mind and once again, Jensen so gets that sentiment. He had to practically bite his tongue to keep from agreeing with Jared out loud. Jensen hasn't understood women practically his whole life. Knew at fifteen that he was gay and it took him a few years to come to terms with it, but eventually he had. And while he hasn't had a lot of successful, long-term relationships, he gets his fair share. 

_Dr. Ackles, did you mean it?_

Jensen has never wanted to protect and corrupt someone all at the same time. It's odd and contradictory, but those hazel eyes -- so trusting -- and yet, the noises Jared makes. 

_Fuck._

Jensen knows he could show him. Show Jared what his body is made to do. Introduce him to the heat, the pleasure two men can find with each other. 

He's got his labcoat open and his zipper halfway down before he even knows what he's doing. 

It's supreme self-restraint that makes him stop. What the fuck is he thinking? What happened to his objectivity? His professional detachment? 

He has never, hands down, ever been like this before. He prides himself on his ability to separate his emotions from his examinations. Sure, he gets attached to certain patients -- it's an occupational hazard -- but Jared is truly a first. He's honestly never gotten hard giving someone a physical before.

Hell, Jensen spent time at a clinic on a college campus and even with the crazy shit college guys got up to, he never had this reaction. 

He shakes himself out of these thoughts one more time and forces himself to focus on his work. He's disgustingly grateful that he doesn't have any more patients to see and the remainder of his day can be spent behind closed doors. 

His concentration only lasts for a few minutes, before his mind returns to that exam room, watching and feeling Jared push back into his finger. 

God, he really thinks this kid would burn him alive if he gave him half the chance. Jensen can just picture those long limbs spread out across the sheets of his big California king and he knows he's not gonna get anything done until he takes care of this distraction. 

He actually tells himself he needs the release in order to function. Tries to rationalize it as a medical, physical thing. 

That's seriously why he gets his dick out in his office, trying to keep as much under the desk as he can on the off chance he might get interrupted and the thrill that shoots through him is part memory and part exhilaration at doing something so irrationally risky. 

Jensen's a good guy. Ask anyone. He really does follow the straight and narrow -- no pun intended -- so that's gotta be why he's leaking precome like a geyser and nearly ready to shoot after three quick strokes of his bare cock. 

It's the situation, the thrill of jerking off in such an unprecedented location. It's not because he can still feel the phantom sensation of that hot, tight ass clenching around his finger. Or hear the sounds, fuck the choked off noises muffled against that exam table. 

It can't be all Jared. It can't be. Otherwise he really is screwed. 

He manages to reach for a tissue just before his balls tighten and his cock empties in a series of rhythmic bursts. He somehow catches it all, even through the dizziness and out-of-body sensations. And if, in those last few seconds of coming down from the high, he happens to picture Jared's open, dimpled smile, it doesn't mean anything, right? 

Right?

Jensen closes his eyes and gets his breathing under control to the best of his ability before sanitizing the room, trying not let guilt and shame strangle him. 

Instead he thinks, _goddamn, Jared Padalecki, what am I going to do about you?_

~

Jared's co-workers suck. Like, really, really suck. Just because he offhandedly mentions that he's spending the night seeing if he can get through all of Firefly in one sitting doesn't mean they had to invite themselves over. 

Seriously, they have the social graces of mules or llamas or…some other boorish animal. 

He should have known when Jake and Misha's eyes lit up behind their cubicles that he was in trouble. 

So, because they looked so excited (and Jared secretly thinks they both have a crush on his TV -- a 70-inch wall-mounted LCD flatscreen) and because he couldn't say no to such abject adoration and hope, he had to go to the grocery store. 

He hates the grocery store. It's so pedestrian and he always has trouble getting around people and its so dumb how he always runs into the same person in every aisle because he somehow inevitably shops at the same pace as some stranger and what's he supposed to say every time he makes eye contact? Hi, remember me from the produce section? How's the soup aisle treating you?

See? Stupid. 

And he's gotta go to the store because he's got literally nothing in his house to eat. Well, except dog food and probably a couple of frozen hot pockets from his last trip to the dreaded bastion of human gluttony and consumerism. 

He knows he could get something delivered -- that's what he usually does for himself -- but Jake and Misha can pack away the food and really, for as much as it sucks, the grocery store is cheaper than eating out all the time. 

God, he's usually not so cranky. It's just that he wanted to spend the evening by himself with Malcolm Reynolds and maybe imagine him in a hot, graphic sexual relationship with Simon that none of the crew knows about, but now he's got to…entertain or something. 

So, he's shoving a couple bags of tortilla chips into his cart and telling himself he shouldn't advise the little old lady who smiled at him kinda nice in the dairy section that she's falling for the product placement of these freakin' stores if she buys that high-priced bag of pretzels right at eye level when he spins around and nearly runs someone over. 

Damn, this day is quickly becoming really crappy. 

He doesn't look up as he mumbles an apology, not wanting to have to make small talk with someone who can confirm he's basically a giant klutz with a shopping cart for a battering ram, and tries to walk around. 

"Jared?"

His head jerks up so fast at the sound of that voice (the one he hears in his head almost every day) his equilibrium shudders a little and he has to grab onto the handle of the cart to stay upright. "Dr. Ackles?" he practically squeaks. 

And, yeah, that's smooth. 

Dr. Ackles grins. "I thought that was you. How have you been?"

Jared wants to answer, he does -- he really, really does -- but all the air seems to have forced its way out of his lungs and he finds himself caught up in Dr. Ackles again. He looks so insanely good, Jared actually has to stop himself from reaching out to touch. He's got a baseball cap over his eyes, a black AC/DC t-shirt that lets Jared know exactly what's under the labcoat, well-worn jeans that really hug his thighs and flip flops. 

Dr. Ackles has incredibly adorable toes. Seriously. Jared's not normally a foot guy, but God, Jared could probably write sonnets to this man's toes alone. 

"Jared?"

Jared yanks his eyes up to Dr. Ackles' face and can literally feel the blush begin on his cheeks. He clears his throat and tries to speak, "S-sorry, Dr. Ackles. I didn't…wow, hi."

Dr. Ackles smiles and his eyes crinkle and it's so fucking gorgeous. "You doing okay?"

Jared nods and only then remembers that it was actually Dr. Ackles he ran over with the cart. "Oh my God, I hit you didn't I? Holy crap, are you hurt?"

Without thinking, he reaches out and wraps his fingers around Dr. Ackles' forearm, having no idea what he's even hoping to accomplish -- he's not the doctor here after all -- and bringing a cascade of memories through his mind. 

God, Jared's life is so fucked up to have him come face-to-face with his number one jerk off fantasy in the middle of the grocery store. And it's his doctor, no less. 

Dr. Ackles just smells so damn good. His scent is almost stronger here -- like the labcoat hides most of it -- and it's something else, more earthy, maybe, like part of the reason Dr. Ackles is wearing the baseball hat is because he didn't wash his hair today -- Jared knows a lot of guys who pull that trick, himself included -- and the thought that if he just takes a step closer, he could know what Dr. Ackles smells like presumably without a shower, like he had just gotten out of bed, makes Jared shake a little. 

"I'm good, Jared," Dr. Ackles says, putting a hand up between them. "No damage done."

Jared has no idea if it's in his head or really happens, but he swears he feels the slightest push against his sternum, like Dr. Ackles is trying to put some distance between them, and Jared lets go and steps away so fast, he nearly knocks over a display of potato chips. 

It's only Dr. Ackles' quick reflexes that keep the cardboard thing from toppling over. 

Jared really, really hates the grocery store. "S-sorry, Dr. Ackles, I just…"

"You're fine, Jared. How about taking some of those deep breaths for me?" His voice is so sincere, so without recrimination, like it's completely normal to talk a patient down from a near anxiety attack in the middle of the snack aisle, Jared doesn't know what to do with himself. 

He wishes he could know what it was like to have Dr. Ackles take care of him all the time. 

Instead of dwelling on what he'll never get to experience, he inhales deeply like Dr. Ackles said and tries to calm down. 

Dr. Ackles' grin is back. "Better?"

Jared nods and nervously goes to unnecessarily straighten his clothing, only to realize he's wearing the ridiculous Double Meat Palace t-shirt he found online late one night. His Buffy obsession and sleep-deprivation made this shirt seem funnier than it likely is and he mentally cringes. 

Dr. Ackles points to Jared's chest and if the floor of the supermarket could swallow him up in the next second, he'd consider himself the luckiest guy on the planet. 

"Buffy, huh?" Dr. Ackles asks.

Jared just manages to keep his jaw from dropping, forgetting his embarrassment. "You know Buffy?"

"I do. Well, not personally," his green eyes seem to sparkle, but Jared thinks it must just be the lighting. "You know my life's not all medical journals and doctor stuff," Dr. Ackles' tone is teasing and Jared can't help but smile. 

It's so weird how Dr. Ackles can make him feel at ease when he's acting like such a doofus. "Oh, I didn't think that your life was all that," Jared's quick to assure. "It's just…the shirt's kinda obscure…" 

"Dude, doesn't everyone know about the Double Meat Palace?" Dr. Ackles asks. "Although, season six was a tough one."

And Jared jumps in head first. "Oh my God, right? With the whole Willow and dark magic and drug thing and Spike and Buffy and getting his soul. You know, I don't think people knew he was getting his soul back. It was just a voiceover in the end. I think it was like the episode of MASH where Colonel Blake died. No one really knew what was happening."

"Yeah?" Dr. Ackles encourages. 

"I think I heard that somewhere. A lot of people hate that season," Jared keeps going. 

"It was kind of dark," Dr. Ackles agrees. "But that's what makes it relatable, you know? Even though they're talking vampires and weird creatures, they still go through the same crap we all do, as insane as that sounds."

Excitement bubbles through Jared -- he can't believe he's having a conversation about Buffy with Dr. Ackles. "Dude, that's not insane, I totally get that and I think it's the appeal of the show. In fact, it's the appeal of the whole genre."

"Oh, totally."

"What about Firefly, did you watch that?" Jared doesn't think he can stop himself at the point, even if he wanted to. 

"Definitely. Now that was a show that did not get enough screen time."

"Right?" Jared says. "In fact, I'm having a Firefly marathon tonight. My stupid co-workers invited themselves over, which is why I'm here getting all this crap, but I was gonna see if I could get through the whole series in one sitting."

Dr. Ackles smiles. "That's awesome."

"You could totally stop by if you wanted."

And that's how Jared gets himself to finally shut up. 

He actually bites his bottom lip and grimaces. Why would he even say that? No way would Dr. Ackles actually come to his apartment. It would be weird and off-putting and not cool at all and probably against some doctor-patient thing. God, he can't believe he just let his mouth run away like that. He has to fix this and immediately starts shaking his head, voice subdued, "Jeez, Dr. A-Ackles, nevermind. T-that's stupid of me…just forget I said anything."

Dr. Ackles is quiet for a bit and Jared squirms inside. He really didn't mean to make this so uncomfortable, especially when it was so awesome to be able to talk to Dr. Ackles so candidly. 

"You know what, Jared?" Dr. Ackles asks and Jared braces himself. "I'd actually really like to stop by, if I could. I haven't seen Firefly in a long time."

Jared blinks. And wonders if he's having some kind of seizure or something. No way this is actually happening. In fact, the whole freakin' day has been so strange, it's likely all some elaborate, vivid dream. Or massive hallucination brought on by some kind of serious brain embolism.

"Jared? Did I wait too long? Is the offer really off the table?"

He actually hears the narrator's voice from A Christmas Story in his head -- _wake up, stupid!_ \-- and he manages to shake himself out of his own moronic references and stammer, "I…no…I mean, yes, I mean," he takes a breath. "Seriously? You want to?"

And Dr. Ackles smiles, an expression that's so warm and soft, Jared's chest feels funny. "Yes, seriously. I want to."

Jared hops a little, reanimated, and says, "Holy crap, this is so freakin' cool. I have… some stuff to get. What, holy crap," and jeez, he needs to stop repeating himself, "what do you like to eat?"

"Don't go all out for me. I'm good with just about anything. What can I bring?"

Jared blinks. "Bring?"

"Well, it's customary when you're invited to someone's house that you don't arrive empty handed. Beer? Wine?"

Jared's dizzy. Actually a little unsteady on his feet with everything that's happening in the snack aisle of this stupid, glorious grocery store, and he says the first thing that comes to his mind. "Apartment."

It's Dr. Ackles' turn to blink. "Sorry?"

"Um. Apartment. I have an apartment, not a house…and it's a little small and…but the TV's really cool. I think my co-workers are unnaturally attracted to it, actually. It might lead to one of those weird relationships with an inanimate object. Have you ever seen My Strange Addiction? This dude was actually dating his car."

Dr. Ackles nods, like what Jared's saying makes any kind of sense when he knows it doesn't. The asinine babbling really is a curse. 

"How about I just figure out something to bring that's cool?" Dr. Ackles suggests. 

Jared agrees with a bob of his head. "Awesome. That's so awesome. So, I'll see you whenever you get there," Jared starts to move away, running through all kinds of crazy shit in his head that he has to get ready for this momentous occasion when Dr. Ackles' voice stops him. 

"Hey Jared?" and there's that grin again, the one that Jared would swear is almost fond, as impossible as that sounds. 

Jared stops and looks. 

"Your address?"

God, he's a hopeless spaz. Of course Dr. Ackles needs to know where he lives. He's reaching for some kind of paper to write on, when Dr. Ackles just pulls a Blackberry from his pocket and shakes it in the air. 

So cool. 

He gives Dr. Ackles the address and his cell number -- in case he gets lost, he figures that's a legit reason -- and waves a little awkwardly and says he'll see him later and tries not to crash into anyone else in his haste to get the shopping done. 

He even smiles at the little old lady from the dairy section. 

It's not until he makes it to his car and remembers that Misha and Jake will be there and his apartment's a mess and likely smells like dog and he's always been abysmally bad at hiding his crush on Malcolm Reynolds and that Dr. freakin' Ackles will be in his apartment that he realizes how messed up this night could actually be. 

~


	3. Chapter 3

In retrospect, Jensen's not completely sure what in the world made him say yes to Jared's offer -- maybe it was the dimples or the hopeful expression or the damn Double Meat Palace shirt. Hell, maybe he just really wants to subconsciously see Firefly again.

Whatever the reason, he found himself saying yes before really processing the ethical quandary he'd put himself in.

Standing in the aisle of the liquor store, looking for that really good beer Chris had introduced him to a few years ago because as soon as he said he'd bring something, he knew he wanted Jared to taste it, he tells himself it doesn't have to be a big deal. There's nothing that says a doctor can't watch television with a patient. Really, it happens in hospitals all the time.

Hell, just a few months ago, Jensen had spent time with Mrs. Jacobs in her room watching TV. Sure it was the Golden Girls and Mrs. Jacobs is 87, but still. It was a great episode. And Mrs. Jacobs said Jensen reminded her of her grandson. It made them both feel good to laugh together.

Just because this will take place in the home of said patient really isn't that much of a difference, right?

Jensen swears before Jared Padalecki walked into his exam room he'd had not only his mental faculties, but also his professionalism intact.

Now, he doesn't know what the hell anymore.

Because apparently when faced with those expectant hazel eyes, Jensen Ackles is incapable of saying no.

Regardless of what it might do to his career.

And God, he's becoming a cliche. Or a plot of a pretty skeevy porno. What would his family think?

Despite the trepidation, there's still a part of him that wants to help Jared. He could tell from the discussion in the exam room that Jared's at a crossroads. Jensen knows what it's like to be questioning such a basic aspect of human existence -- he even went through it when hormones were burgeoning, compounding the situation tenfold. He remembers the fear and isolation and loneliness that comes from wrestling with the possible consequences and outcomes of being attracted to a member of the same sex.

Jensen thinks he could be good for Jared, even outside the office, where it's easier to teach him and show him that being homosexual doesn't have to mean hiding or lying all the time.

He finds the beer, feeling pretty damn magnanimous at his newest epiphany and heads out to spend some time with this possible protege.

It's when Jared opens the door, dressed in a grey v-neck t-shirt and soft, well worn jeans molded to his hips and thighs, and Jensen barely manages to keep his dick from popping straight through his zipper, that he realizes his rationalizations are pretty much bullshit.

~

Jared's not completely sure when it happened, but at some point during the last two hours, he's fairly certain he has magically transformed into a 13-year-old girl. He's tempted to check and make sure his dick's still there, but he doesn't think he has the time. He's spent most of the afternoon cleaning up -- empty take-out containers and video game control wires and the huge Millennium Falcon replica he'd been working on. At the moment, he's got practically every piece of clothing he owns tossed haphazardly across his bed and he's been berating himself for the last five minutes that his wardrobe basically consists of stiff button-downs for work or cheesy t-shirts. 

He seriously hasn't been this nervous since prom night. 

He's never this anxious at work, but that's because his focus is computers. Computers he gets. People are freaky. 

Especially his incredibly hot doctor, who he's been dreaming about sporadically for the last few weeks and he maybe wants to kiss. Okay, who he really wants to kiss. And, yeah, he was scared about his prom for the same reason -- kissing -- but the fear about kissing Ashley was more because he didn't want to. 

He's never been kissed by someone he's truly attracted to and how pathetic is that? 

Equally pathetic is the fact that Dr. Ackles probably has a wife and three kids at home, which is odd that he would come over to Jared's apartment, but still. No way Dr. Ackles thinks about men the way Jared does. Sure, he was supportive during Jared's exam, but he has to be. He's a doctor. He's not allowed to be judgmental. Probably. Plus, he's way too nice to be mean. 

Jared sighs and rakes all ten fingers through hair gone damp again with sweat -- he'd already showered twice. And it's not even that hot in his apartment. 

Sadie looks up at him from her bed in the corner and gives him that expression of hers that says she's worried about him. She's been especially clingy since they lost Harley. 

Jared shakes his head, knowing no good will come from that train of thought and instead says out loud, "Do you think I've got time to make a trip to the mall?"

The doorbell answers before Sadie can and Jared's heart shoots up his throat. Shit, shit, shit. 

He throws on the nearest article of clothing -- some grey t-shirt that has seen better days and races to the living room, Sadie on his heels. 

He takes a deep, nowhere-near-calming breath and pulls open the door. 

And Jared's dizzy. He's not sure it's possible, but Jared swears Dr. Ackles gets more attractive every time he sees him. The man just has thick shoulders and these gorgeous green eyes, and he's traded the baseball hat and flip flops from earlier for artfully spiked up hair and sneakers. And he smells, Jesus, he just smells so damn clean and masculine and Jared just wants to lick him and God, this is bad. So very, very bad. 

"Hey, Jared."

And somehow Jared finds his voice. "Dr. A-Ackles, hi, thanks for coming. This is. Um. So cool of you and I just. Yeah."

The sound of bottles clinking together draws Jared's attention to what Dr. Ackles has in his hand. 

"Hey, you brought beer, that's cool. Beer's awesome and I've got some nachos and stuff, so that'll go well together."

Dr. Ackles nods and holds up the six pack. "It's got a real depth of flavor I thought you might like."

Jared smiles and his stomach flutters a little. _Dr. Ackles was thinking about him?_ "That's great! I like deep flavors." His words echo back to him and he sighs. Damn it. He was trying so hard not to be a doofus. He hears himself mumble, "Jeez, now all I need is a watermelon to carry and I'll be Francis Houseman" and he kind of wants to shut the door and start the night over again. Not that it would likely make a difference. 

He winces and risks a glance at Dr. Ackles and again finds that bright, almost fond expression on his face. He tells Jared, "Dirty Dancing's a classic. I always have to stop and watch it when it's on TNT or TBS on the weekends."

Jared does not know how Dr. Ackles can make him feel so good when he knows he's acting like a total tool, but somehow he does. Jared smiles and Sadie head-butts the back of his knee. 

Dr. Ackles looks down and says, "Who's this?"

Jared scritches his fingers into Sadie's muzzle and holds her against his leg. "This is Sadie. She's a little shy."

Dr. Ackles bends down and murmurs, "She's a beauty."

Jared watches in awe as Sadie slowly detaches herself from his leg and creeps closer to Dr. Ackles. It's an utterly out-of-character reaction for her -- she usually gives Jake and Misha, and any other visitor for that matter, a wide berth. But before Jared knows it, she's actually sliding between Dr. Ackles' knees, her head against his chest, letting him scratch her neck. 

He thinks she may be the luckiest dog on the planet. 

"Hey there, baby," Dr. Ackles whispers. "You're fine, aren't ya?"

And Jared's jealous. Of his own dog. It's so sad. But, he figures, like pup, like master. If their situations were reversed, Jared would crawl into Dr. Ackles' lap, too, so he can't be too resentful. He does warn, "If you keep that up, she'll probably stay there all night."

Dr. Ackles looks up, his chin grazing Sadie's head. "Probably can't see much from the hallway, huh? It's okay if I come in then?"

Jeez, his people skills and manners totally suck. "Crap. Yes. Of course," he clears his throat. "I mean, please come in."

Dr. Ackles gives Sadie the briefest kiss just above her eye and she not only allows it, she almost basks in it. Dr. Ackles extends a hand. "Help an old guy up, would you?"

Jared scoffs. "You're not old," just as he reaches for Dr. Ackles' outstretched palm. When their skin connects, Jared swears it's electric. He pulls and Dr. Ackles stretches and he wants to bring them closer, but he doesn't dare. 

He thinks he sees something spark in Dr. Ackles' eyes once he's fully upright, but he's probably imagining it, being all weak-kneed from their fingers curling together and all. 

Jared releases Dr. Ackles' hand and steps back, gesturing him inside. 

Sadie follows Dr. Ackles with a rather captivated expression on her face. 

Jared wants to tell her he knows the feeling. 

Dr. Ackles hands Jared the beer and takes off his jacket. That's when Jared notices the t-shirt. He grins. "Plow King?"

Dr. Ackles chuckles. "You think you've got the market cornered on novelty t-shirts?"

Jared's pretty sure he's being teased and he likes the warm sensation it brings to his chest, so he plays back, "Oh no, not at all. I just can't believe you'd wear the competition on a t-shirt, that's all."

Dr. Ackles looks affronted. "Dude, the Plow King is state of the art."

"But Mr. Plow is sure-footed as a mountain goat."

Dr. Ackles outright laughs and Jared knows he would never get tired of hearing that sound -- or being responsible for it -- for the rest of his life. Dr. Ackles huffs, "Oh, and the goat trips down the mountain…"

"Right?" Jared giggles. 

Dr. Ackles sighs. "Good stuff."

Jared takes Dr. Ackles' coat in his hand, drapes it across the back of the nearest chair and asks, "Dr. Ackles, how are you so cool?"

"Like Lady Gaga says, I was born this way." 

Jared, surprised, barks a sharp laugh and wants to touch Dr. Ackles so bad, he almost gives into the temptation. 

"Hey Jared, do me a favor?"

Jared knows at this point, he would agree to literally anything.

"Since I'm at your house and eating your food and quoting Simpsons with you, how 'bout you call me Jensen?"

Jared sucks in a breath and his eyes widen. He just. It's not. Wow. It's like a teacher asking to be called by his first name-- almost out of the realm of possibility. Jared's belly fizzles a little at the implications, but he says, "I'll try."

Dr. Ackles -- Jensen -- nods. "That's all I can ask." His eyes go to the poster on the wall next to him. "Classic X-Men, huh?"

Jared says, "It's kind of the new old school, I guess."

"It was almost the golden age when Chris Claremont and Jim Lee did the comics. God, that was just…awesome stuff."

Jared gapes. He knows he does. He just can't seem to close his mouth. "You? Know? But, how?"

Jensen's lips tip up at the corners. "I had a collection when I was younger."

"Me too!" Jared almost bounces. "They were just. And the introduction of Gambit. And how he and Wolverine and you know, I got my little sister into it and she thought it was cool, too, but she wanted pictures on her walls, so she cut up the comics and taped them up."

Jensen looks horrified. "She what?"

"I know, I almost threw up. I swear, I still don't think I've forgiven her," Jared shudders. 

"No wonder," Jensen says, eyes wandering around the room. "Damn, that is a nice TV."

Jared beams at the compliment. "I had to save up, but it's so worth it. You haven't lived 'til you've seen Watchmen on it. Dr. Manhattan, up close and personal."

Shit. What are the chances Jensen hasn't seen the movie and doesn't know about the big, blue penis? God, if he does, Jared know this is it. His stupid mouth has finally crossed the line and Jensen is gonna leave. 

The low chuckle surprises the hell out of Jared and the equally low reply of, "I'll bet," shivers down his spine and he's never wanted to put himself in someone's personal space before, but Jared finds that whenever he's around Jensen, he just wants to be closer. 

He just manages to stop himself from stepping forward. He clears his throat, "I'll just…um…put the beer in the fridge."

"Need any help?"  



	4. Chapter 4

  
  


Jared shivers a little, wonders if Jensen wants to be close, too, but shakes the silly thought out of his head. "Sure, you can help plate the nachos."

By the time Misha and Jake barrel through the front door -- without knocking, of course -- Jared and Jensen have everything set out and ready and Jared finds he definitely likes Jensen's taste in beer. He's also silently lamenting the fact that Jensen isn't in his life everyday. He fits into his apartment like they've lived together for years -- he even learns how to navigate around Sadie when she's always underfoot in the kitchen scavenging for stray scraps -- and he's funny and knows so much stuff that Jared never dreamed he would and it's bizarre because Jared's never really wanted people around before. Even when his friends visit, it always kind of puts him out a little because he likes to be alone. 

But with Jensen around, it doesn't feel like an inconvenience. It feels somehow right and natural. 

And he knows it's insanely stupid. Jensen probably has a girlfriend or wife somewhere who thinks he walks on water -- and she isn't wrong -- who he takes to all his doctor parties and they probably look gorgeous together and it's so remarkably dumb of Jared to ever think that he could know what it was like to have Jensen like that -- to belong to Jensen like that -- and damn, how did this go from a crush on his doctor to them living together for the rest of their lives? 

He always did have a tendency to take things way too far. 

He's almost grateful for Misha and Jake's presence. Almost. 

"Jay-man, we brought tequila for shots and bagel bites. Now it's a party!" That's Jake and Jared kind of wants to cringe that he has to introduce them as his friends. 

Misha, somewhat freakishly in-tune to the human condition for a computer guy, sidles up to Jared and peers around his shoulder. "And who do we have here?"

Jared coughs, throat a little tight. "Um. Misha, this is Dr. Ackles -- damn, I mean, J-Jensen."

Jensen steps out around him with a chuckle and a murmured, "You almost had it," before turning his attention and an outstretched hand to Misha. "Hi, I'm Jensen."

"How in the world did you meet a doctor?" Misha asks rather bluntly while shaking Jensen's hand, his look alarmingly knowing for someone who doesn't really have a clue about about Jared's innermost thoughts, let alone his lovelife or lack thereof. And Jared wonders how the hell he's gonna explain the fact that he invited his doctor over to his apartment to watch Firefly without sounding as strange as the situation truly is.

"We met at the grocery store," Jensen supplies, releasing Misha's hand. Jared supposes it's true enough. 

Misha's eyes narrow. "Are you in the habit of coming to the homes of strangers you meet in the grocery store to watch Firefly?"

Jensen's smirk is part humor, part something else Jared can't quite place because he's never really seen it from Jensen before. "My habits would likely surprise you."

Misha hmms softly and Jared's amazed at Jensen's ability to calmly deflect what Misha's really asking. Jensen seems totally unruffled by the inquiry and Jared admires the hell out of him for that alone. He's a bumbling fool when he's put on the spot, but Jensen seems to take it all in stride. 

"I'm Jake," Jake waves over Misha's head. "You like bagel bites?"

"What kind?" Jensen asks. 

"Uh, we got pepperoni, supreme and three cheese."

"They make supreme?" Jensen wonders. 

Jake shrugs. "Apparently."

It's Jensen's turn to hum and Jake wanders into the kitchen to open the microwave. 

"What are you a doctor of?" Misha asks. 

Jared clears his throat, "Misha…"

Jensen shakes his head. "It's cool, Jared. Internal medicine. I'm a GP. I have a practice on Rosemont and I help at the free clinic downtown when I can. And you work with Jared on computers, right?"

Misha nods without reply, but continues to size Jensen up. 

"Um, how about we get the show underway?" Jared suggests, wondering again if this might be a colossally bad idea. 

Jensen offers him a smile and takes a seat on the recliner near the door; Sadie follows him over, putting her chin on Jensen's knee. 

Misha frowns at the dog's friendliness to a veritable stranger, drops onto the sofa and avails himself of the nachos on the coffee table. Jared sits in the chair closest to the kitchen. Jake has what looks like two bagel bites already in his mouth and four glasses from Jared's cupboard in his hand when he takes a seat beside Misha. 

"Time for shots," Jake mumbles around the food as Jared fires up the DVD. 

Jensen shakes his head, motioning with the beer bottle in his hand. "Sorry, man. Work tomorrow means I gotta nurse this beer all night."

"Sucks to be you," Jake slurps his first shot back and winces, passing the bottle and a glass to Misha, who downs it like water.

Misha stretches to hand the liquor to Jared and Jared hesitates for a second, feeling Jensen's eyes on him. It's probably not a good idea to really imbibe in front of his doctor, but Jared has a feeling he's gonna need to kill his nerves somehow, so he pours maybe a little more than a fingers width into the glass and knocks it back. 

Fuck, he hates tequila. Can barely even stand it in margaritas, but it warms his stomach a bit and that's nice.

They make it to Mal telling Simon that Kaylee's dead and Jake cracks a laugh at the "I'm a bad man" line and says, "He is so fucking cool."

Misha raises his glass. "I will drink to that."

The nachos and bagel bites are demolished and when Mal tells Simon that if he ever kills him, he'll be awake, facing him and armed, Misha says, "Who would you rather fuck, Mal or Inara?"

Jared closes his eyes. He suspects Misha's not as drunk as he'd like everyone to think he is and Jared doesn't have the energy or mental acuity at the moment to figure out why Misha would want to pretend. He's too nervous about the damn game. They play "who would you rather" a lot when they watch movies and shows and Jared fucking hates it. Not the concept, but the fact that he always has to cloak his answers in what's the acceptable truth. He sighs, knowing the whole situation's that much more awkward with Jensen in the room. 

"Misha, can we not…" Jared starts, as he reaches for the remote to change the episode. 

"No offense to Inara," Jensen interrupts, taking a sip of his beer. "But I'm gonna go with Mal."

Jared freezes. Literally cannot get his muscles to move. Not only at the thought of Jensen and Mal together, because, _damn_ , but because the world suddenly seems to shimmer with a new possibility. It's tenuous, though, and Jared doesn't want to wreck the balance by leaping in. For a split second, he thinks Jensen's just fucking with them, but when he looks over, he's stunned to find Jensen watching him, not Misha, and his heart skips a beat in his chest. 

It almost feels like the two of them are connected by an invisible wire, conducting fire and heat, and Jared cannot look away. 

It snaps a split second later at Jake's words. "You gonna pass up on a chance with Inara?" 

Jensen looks over at Jake and puts a foot up on the coffee table, in a pose that appears relaxed, but there's a tension to him that Jared's never seen before. "I am," he says quietly. 

Misha looks thoughtful. "Is it just Mal? What about Inara or Simon?"

"Simon," Jensen answers. 

"Kaylee or Wash?"

Jared's torn. Part of him wants to put a stop to the Spanish inquisition going on in his living room, but another part -- the bigger part, if he's being honest -- really wants to hear Jensen's choices. 

"Wash."

"Zoe or Jayne?"

For the first time, Jensen's expression changes. He winces slightly. "He's way below my standard, but if I have to pick, Jayne."

"Huh," Misha says. "So it's the dick."

Jensen nods around another swig of his beer and confirms. "It's definitely the dick."

The quiet is broken only by the background music on the title menu for The Train Job. 

Jensen leans his head back against the recliner's cushions and in a voice that's a mockery of nonchalance asks softly, "Is there a problem with that?"

It takes a full five seconds for Misha to answer, "On the contrary. It's pretty fucking hot."

Jake agrees with a salute of his glass. 

Jared can't breathe. Seriously thinks he's unable to inhale. He's pretty sure this is nothing more than the most vivid dream he's had in a long, long time and he's going to wake up blaming his ridiculous imagination for concocting such an insane scenario. 

"Yeah," Jensen says. "You think so?"

Misha replies, "I do."

"Interesting," Jensen continues. "You know, I've discovered that guys who find it hot have typically experienced at least some part of it themselves."

Misha chuckles. "Well played, Dr. Ackles. Well played, indeed, sir. I've dabbled."

In his frozen, not-breathing state, Jared can feel himself boggle. 

Jake asks the question Jared is unable to voice. "You have?"

Misha grins. "We all have our interesting college experiments," he turns again to Jensen. "So, you and Mal, who tops?"

Jared doesn't think the squeak makes it past his lips, but at this point, he's not really sure of much of anything. 

Jensen seems to actually consider this. "I don't really have a preference. Switching it up always works for me because there are advantages and awesome aspects to both positions, but damn, you know they don't call him captain for nothing and it would be incredible to let him just take control of the ship, you know?"

Misha hoots and slaps his knee. "Nice!"

With that, the atmosphere in the room changes completely. By the time they make it to Shindig, it's like Jensen's been a part of the group for a long time. 

Jared finds in the wake of this newest revelation that he's unable to concentrate on the show, pretty much at all. He'll catch lines here and there and smile and laugh along with the others, but his mind keeps spinning words and scenarios in his head that are distracting. 

_It's definitely the dick._

And Jared's thrown back to the exam room, where Jensen was nothing but ethical and competent; Jared truly had no idea at all of Jensen's sexual orientation and that's both admirable and troublesome. Admirable because it means Jensen's good at his job; troublesome because maybe it means Jensen just isn't attracted to Jared.  

And that thought hurts likely more than it really should. 

Because Jared's completely sure that there are serious rules about doctors and patients having anything other than a professional relationship. Additionally, he doesn't really know Jensen; he shouldn't be this attached. It's incredibly illogical for Jared's normal behavior. He's a loner. Sure, he has some friends, but he generally likes being by himself. He doesn't have anyone he wants to be with all the time. At least he didn't. 

Until now. 

Halfway through Bushwacked, Jared had shaken his bangs into his eyes and watched Jensen, what he hoped was surreptitiously, wondering what in the world it was about this man -- his _doctor_ \-- that seems to have slid beyond everything Jared had known about himself. 

Jensen's smart and funny and nice and doesn't seem to mind when Jared babbles moronically or brings up strange, random comments or facts. And he's one of the most attractive men Jared has ever met. Just watching Jensen lift a beer bottle to his mouth and the way his biceps contracted and stretched the sleeve of his t-shirt made Jared want to take a bite. 

Now, Kaylee enters the ball and Jared's thoughts return, again, to the exam table and he has to wonder what it would be like to have Jensen touch him in a non-clinical manner. Would his finger feel just as good if Jared was on his back on a mattress? Would Jensen kiss him? Would he fuck him? The thought, unknown and mysterious, makes Jared shiver. He knows it would be kind of scary, but the thought of Jensen being the one to do it, actually fuck him -- an actual person in his fantasies for the first time since college -- makes his cock twitch in his jeans. 

Jared shifts on the chair and manages to keep his mind out of the gutter until he notices in the beginning of Our Mrs. Reynolds that both Misha and Jake have passed out on the couch. 

Sadie's sound asleep at Jensen's feet and when Jared raises his eyes, he finds Jensen staring. 

The air in the living room seems to crackle and Jared, suddenly overcome with nerves, stands up and moves into the kitchen, where he tries to breathe deeply and evenly and not think about the fact that he and Jensen are all but alone right now and Jared knows that Jensen likes dick, but he really doesn't know if Jensen likes or even wants his dick, because, really, he's no Mal Reynolds, but he's gotta be better than Jayne, and he's so wrapped up in his dizzying thoughts that he when Jensen says his name he actually jumps and spins around with his back up against the kitchen counter. 

"Oh jeez, sorry," Jensen whispers, Sadie's nails clicking on the kitchen floor as she walks across the room to get a drink. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Jared shakes his head -- somewhat spastically, "N-No, you're fine."

"I'm actually gonna have to take off, I kind of have an early day tomorrow," Jensen tells him. 

"Oh yeah, yeah, of course," Jared's so wound up, he's not even sure if he's making sense. "T-thanks so much for coming. The beer was awesome and…I'm gonna look for i-it whenever I'm at the liquor store now because…you were right, d-depth of flavor--"

"Jared."

Jared stops and raises his eyes to Jensen's, even though it makes his stomach swoop. 

"Look, I'm sorry if that stuff from earlier made you uncomfortable," Jensen says, taking a step closer, earnest expression on his face. "I've been told I can be a little adamant about…my life, I guess."

"No, no, it was cool. R-really cool, actually, Dr." Jared huffs at himself in annoyance, "J-Jensen."

Jensen grins. "That's what the six-year-olds call me, but you're getting there."

Jared can't help but smile back. 

"Thanks for the Firefly marathon. I haven't seen it in ages and it really was an amazing show."

Jared agrees without speaking, a little off balance by the fact that Jensen is almost as tall as he is. Almost. It's a heady sensation to know that all he'd have to do is bend his knees just a little to have them on the same level. 

"And," Jensen's expression falls. "I just," he sounds more hesitant and unsure than Jared's ever heard him. "I want you to know that I'm completely capable of maintaining professional decorum with my patients, the conversation tonight notwithstanding."

Jared nods, but wants to ask, _do you have to?_ Even though he knows he has no right. He's a patient. That's what Jensen's trying to say. Jared's not so dense he can't get that. It just leaves him with a hollow feeling in his stomach, wanting what he can't have, wondering what could have happened had they met under different circumstances.

Even still, he finds himself listing toward Jensen, despite his best intentions, almost like there's some kind of gravitational pull that Jared can't resist. 

"So," Jensen continues without moving away. "I don't want you to feel weird around me or anything."

"I won't," Jared assures, certain he can feel the heat from Jensen's body with how close they're standing. 

"Good," Jensen nods, eyes dropping to Jared's mouth. "That's good. I don't want there to be anything--"

In retrospect, Jared's not completely sure which one of them closes the distance, but suddenly, Jensen's lips connect with his and it's like nothing he's ever experienced before. He tastes the beer and nachos and smells the rich scent of Jensen's cologne and at first, he has literally no idea what to do. He's overwhelmed, his senses cataloguing every nuance, every shocked breath, having no real experience to draw from, he follows where Jensen leads. 

And Jensen does something, Jared's not sure what, a tilt of a head, a sweep of a lip and suddenly, the angle's different and Jared's mouth is slightly open and Jensen's tongue drags along Jared's bottom lip and a hot rush of want gathers low in Jared's stomach and he whimpers quietly into Jensen's mouth. 

This isn't like when he's alone in the shower or his bed. It's not the slow burn that starts when he's gonna jerk off. He knows how that goes. This is totally different because he's really not in charge here. This is Jensen making his lips buzz and his body respond and Jared sucks in a sharp breath when Jensen pushes him against the counter with a rough grunt, connecting them from mouth to knee.

Jared gets a hand fisted at the back of Jensen's t-shirt and doesn't know what to do with all the heat. He's drowning and barely knows where he is or what he's doing, but he knows the feel of Jensen against him, all hard angles and muscles, is making him never want to let go. 

He tries to learn what Jensen teaches, tries to mimic Jensen's actions -- the suction of his lips, the curling of his tongue -- and when Jared goes purely on instinct and bites the plush thickness of Jensen's bottom lip, like he's been wanting to practically since the day he walked into the offices on Rosemont Avenue, Jensen nearly growls, slots their hips together in perfect alignment and grabs a fistful of hair at the nape of Jared's neck. 

Jensen's dick, God, so fucking hard, ruts between Jared's thigh and his own thick cock, now pulsing precome into his boxer briefs and a tremor shakes through Jared at the blindingly intense contact -- the sound that grates past his throat is a broken amalgamation of Jensen's name and a plea to any deity that might be listening. 

Jensen pulls back only enough to speak against Jared's mouth. "Yeah, sweetheart, my God, you're gonna burn me alive."

Jared whispers, "please," and he'll never know if it's his voice or the fact that he finally managed an actual word, or something else entirely inside Jensen's head, but suddenly, Jensen stops. Stops everything -- his hips, his fingers curling in Jared's hair, his mouth, everything -- and whispers, "Shit. Shit, Jared, I, damn it…"

Jared only knows that he doesn't want to lose the feel of Jensen's body, so he moves his hips in small, tiny circles, three little thrusts against Jensen, cocks and zippers rubbing and grinding, and Jensen gasps a hissed out _fuck_ , puts a hand against Jared's chest and takes one step back. 

Jared starts to shake his head, blind with denial. "J-Jensen," even Jared doesn't recognize his own voice, "I want--"

Jensen's fingers fist in the neck of Jared's t-shirt. "Jared, I am begging you, literally begging you, not to finish that sentence."

Jared whines a little, but complies to Jensen's wishes, while his entire body throbs in time to his heartbeat. 

Jensen moves further back, putting space and air between them. "I have to go," he whispers. 

Jared's lips tingle and he nods, watches Jensen retrace his path, snag his jacket from the back of the chair and pull the door shut behind him. 

The following morning, when Misha's bloodshot eyes land on Jared as he's turning on the coffee machine after a horribly sleepless night and he asks, "Jensen's your doctor, isn't he? The one you went to for that sinus thing you had a while ago, right?" Jared honestly has no idea how to answer the question.

~

  



End file.
